


What Is and What was Never Meant to Be

by afrakaday



Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, multi-ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:18:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1311217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrakaday/pseuds/afrakaday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exploring the truth about Isis's identity on New Caprica.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is and What was Never Meant to Be

“It’s a beautiful ceremony, huh.” Bill slides his hand into Laura’s as they watch Maya gently hand Isis over to the priestess. The baby squirms in her pale pink, sacklike dress and vocalizes her presence, but doesn’t cry.

She turns to face him and smiles. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d think so . . . Admiral Atheist.”

“We had naming ceremonies for both Leland and Zackary. Even if you’re not religious, it’s a good feeling, of presenting your baby out into the world, ready to be his or her own person.”

“To accept their destiny, whatever it might be,” Laura says softly. 

“It’s a lot for a little person to handle,” Bill agrees.

She wraps her arm around his and holds tight.

* * *

Later, when they’re back in her tent and a little drunk from the post-ceremony celebration, Bill looks up at her earnestly and asked a question she had long ago assumed he had determined too personal to ask. Maybe things have changed more than she thought.

“Did you ever have a child, Laura?”

She takes her time answering, stirring her tea. “No…”

He can sense that there’s more there, and he waits her out.

“In my late thirties, I decided that I wanted to be a mother, and it didn’t matter that I hadn’t found a partner to do that with.” She sips her tea, and a practiced, distant grief settles over her lovely features. “A good friend was willing to help me out, and even co-parent-- he and I were never romantically involved, but we would have been good partners in this.”

Wally Gray had been a good friend. He’d always been just a little bit in love with her, and it had been enough to get them to agree to take that journey together, when her family was gone and she was running out of time to start her own. It had made it that much more painful to pull the plug on his candidacy. Walking with him on Cloud Nine, that little bit of love had vanished for good. 

“What happened?”

“I finally got pregnant after the third round of IVF. I lost the baby at about fourteen weeks, and never tried again.” She looks thoughtful for a moment, then her eyes crinkle slightly as a realization hits her. “I haven’t told anyone about that since . . . well, long before the Colonies fell.”

* * *

She’s as surprised that she answered him honestly as she was at the fact that he asked the question at all, and that sad bit of her past joins the other secret weighing heavily on her chest.

“Bill,” she begins, and his hand slowly stops rubbing circles on her back and slips back into his lap. “There’s something I have to tell you about Isis.”

She wouldn’t tell him _all_ the reasons for what she’d done: Maya’s soft brown eyes, so guileless as she spoke to Laura of the baby she’d lost in the attacks; the thrill that had run through Laura’s body when the younger woman threw herself into Laura’s arms with a resounding cry of thanks when Laura had brought up the possibility of an adoption; the chaste kiss they’d shared in Maya’s new quarters when Laura stopped by with a baby gift to see how Isis was settling in.

No, those weren’t her reasons at all. “The child was in danger,” she said. “I couldn’t let them have her. And they _would_ have taken her, and the rest of us would be at risk until that day came.”

“Who, Laura?” Bill’s blue eyes are intent.

“Isis,” she said, “is Hera.”

 

* * *

Bill chokes on his tea and jumps up-- whether to try to clear his throat and breathe, or to get away from her, she’s not sure.

“Frakking hell, Laura,” he growls once his coughs subside. “That baby belongs to my officers. They _grieved_ for her. They still do.”

She’s impassive, but stands as well to face him at eye level. The easy warmth between them has evaporated at her revelation. 

“You kidnapped a baby and told her parents she was dead,” he says grimly. “And you roped my CMO into your scheme.”

Now that he thinks about it, he can remember Laura meeting with Cottle in sickbay without him; their heads bent together, their words ceasing as soon as he stepped into the room. Those interactions, which he’d written off as innocuous, a closeness born of Cottle’s care for Laura during her illness, now took on a more sinister meaning. What _else_ had they been plotting? Doing? 

Bill’s not just disappointed; he’s furious. Laura finds that she feels unburdened at having finally told him the truth, but it’s not clear that it’s worth the price.

It wasn’t, she decides, as he yanks on his boots and storms out of her tent. 

* * *

Bill’s not sure where to go -- all of the rows of tents on this planet look the same to him. It takes a few loops of wandering until he finally comes across the lean-to that functions as a bar and meeting place for the settlers.

Some of the revelers are still there from Isis’s-- _Hera’s_ \--naming ceremony after-party, though the baby and her mother are both gone, and for that, Bill’s glad. He returns their waves and ignores their confused looks when they realize Roslin’s not there with him.

Saul’s at the end of the bar, studying the small glass of brown liquid in front of him, and doesn’t notice Bill until Bill sits down next to him.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Saul asks pointedly.

“She’s not. Where’s Ellen?”

“Frak you!” Saul rejoins. It’s a dialogue as old as their friendship; it’s the basis for their sometimes-more-than-friendship. 

“Joe! Get us another round.” Saul throws back what’s left in his cup to make room for the shots the bartender pours out before them. 

The shots multiply, and Bill’s unsteady on his feet as they walk back to Saul’s tent. The burning ball of anger at Laura in the pit of his stomach has only been inflamed by the alcohol, and when Saul ties shut the flap to the tent and tentatively kisses him, Bill reaches for his belt buckle.

* * * 

Bill wakes up to the sound of Ellen and Saul making love.

“You’ve gotta be frakking kidding me,” he huffs from his blanket on the floor. They didn’t even have the decency to wake him up and either kick him out or invite him to join in first. Some friends.

“See ya later, Bill,” Saul says from the corner of his mouth, barely audible over Ellen’s moans of pleasure. The creaking cot’s tempo is increasing, and Bill knows he’s got mere moments to get out of there.

“Yeah. Right,” Bill says, pulling on his boots and making a hasty exit through the tent flap for the second time of his shore leave.

* * *

Once he’s found some bread to eat for breakfast and a twig to brush his teeth with, Bill feels human enough to go find Laura and try to make things right.

He’s still struggling to understand her decision-- it doesn’t speak much of her faith in his ability to provide security, and he hates that she shut him out of it completely. But he can admit to himself that he would have struggled, and still does, to be objective about it.

“Isis is Hera,” he can hear Laura say, and it competes with Sharon’s heartbroken cry of “My baby!”

But Laura had lost a child too. The woman he’d spent the previous day with wouldn’t maliciously inflict that kind of pain on someone else.

She’s not in her tent, but he finds her a few tents down, playing with Isis in the morning sun. _Hera._

She notices the shadow he casts over them first, and looks up, squinting at him. “Hello.”

He sits down next to them, his eyes trained on the baby as she bounced up and down, holding onto Laura’s hands for support. 

“I forgive you, Laura,” he says.

“Doesn’t that sound familiar,” she huffs. “I don’t need your forgiveness, Bill. What I do need is your cooperation.”

“Helo and Athena should know,” he says. 

“It’s too--”

“Dangerous. I know.” He reaches out and gently touches her chin so she’ll face him. “But they’re coming back, either way. Isn’t that what you told me?”

“I don’t--”

“I’ve got to go back to my ship,” he says. “I’m not going to say anything to them.”

“Good,” she says, and stands up, scooping Isis into her arms. “Say goodbye to the Admiral, Isis.”

“Isis,” he repeats, and shakes his head as Laura takes the baby into the tent behind them.

She emerges a few minutes later, after a few unhappy squawks have come from the tent, and holds her hand out to Bill to help him up.

“I’ll walk with you,” she offers.

They make their way toward the landing field, an unsettled silence between them, until Bill finally breaks it when his Raptor comes into sight.

“I wish I could have been that friend, for you,” he says. 

It takes her a moment to realize his meaning, and she blushes. 

“You are,” she says, and presses her lips to his cheek.


End file.
